


Blue Butterfly

by berrybliss



Series: Fairy Tale Retellings [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AkaKuro Week 2017, Alternate Universe - Cinderella Retelling, Demisexual!AkaKuro, Flower Language, M/M, Momoi is Akashi's biological sibling, Random Time Skips TM, ends happily I swear, especially when your crush is ze crown prince, it is hard to be gay in fairytale verse, meant for Day 7 - Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berrybliss/pseuds/berrybliss
Summary: The story of a tailor and a prince who bring forth radical changes that will span across future generations, shattering social and cultural conventions with a love that, while primarily condemned, is really of righteous nature.“I love you.” The words were so heartfelt and sincere, that Tetsuya felt like he was losing himself, like it made it more apparent what exactly he could have but in secret, only ever in secret.“I want to build a world where this is okay.” Tetsuya said, clenching Seijuro’s hand. He’d always felt so small, but a fire burned within him now as he held Seijuro's hand in his - it didn't take a while to name this feeling: bright, burning hope.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beginning Author’s Note: This was meant to be posted tomorrow, but I'll be posting another fic in its stead.  
> I know I didn’t do it well, but this is actually a story of society and sexuality, and basically AkaKuro just discovering things about themselves. Not very subtle attempt either, haha ^^; I am so sorry. If you notice clear, blatant problems on gender roles and the like, those are sort of meant to be reflective on what kind of world aka and kuro live in here. Happy AkaKuro Week guys!!!  
> Moodboards I made for this fic can be found here: http://berryblissthefangirl.tumblr.com/ (Yes, my tumblr, rofl)  
> Warnings for mentions of Child Abuse and Sexual Oppression.  
> The story can either be read as a whole or you can actually skip more than half and start with the part labelled -in the near future-. Reading it as a whole gives a clearer picture, but the real akkr starts later on. Anyways, enjoy!!

* * *

  
“What story would you like to hear today, Ayumi?”

“The Prince and the Tailor!” The little girl said immediately. Her grandfather chuckled, like it was a shared joke only the two of them knew.

“Why that one?”

“Grandmother always says I’m too young to understand it, even though I’m eleven now.”

“That you are.”

“Then again,” she smiled mischievously, “Grandmother’s not here, is she?”

“I suppose not,” the old man said, poking his granddaughter’s nose. She threw her head back in surprise, red eyes shimmering. “Are you ready to listen?” he asked, hoisting Ayumi up to sit on his lap. She nodded, her small hands on her plump, rosy cheeks. She was all ears.

_“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away...”_

* * *

  
The death of a Tailor was always big news.

Tailors, after all, were rare and hard to come around. They played a pivotal role in a society where social gatherings were of great importance, being gifted with the ability to make dresses and suits in a matter of seconds. Skilled Tailors, however, were those who knew what would bring out the beauty in someone, knew how to skilfully alter pieces of clothing and make it seem effortless. It was, in every sense, like magic - and Kuroko Megumi was in every sense a skilled Tailor.

Tailors were not strictly anyone’s property - but it was Megumi who had been chosen by Queen Shiori to tailor her dresses for every occasion. Highly in demand while amongst the living, many came to Megumi’s funeral to mourn her death, and Queen Shiori was no exception. The king, decidedly, had more important matters to attend to. He did, however, send his condolences by paying for the funeral service.

Accompanying Shiori in Masaomi’s stead were her children, Seijuro and Satsuki, who both looked in mourning too, despite never having much attachment for the now deceased woman. They had seen her in the few instances they needed more clothes made, and liked her well enough to feel their hearts sting at the thought of her ceasing to exist in this world.

Seijuro, however, could not hide his contempt for most of the people present, for they were people who came to mourn simply because it would look bad if they hadn’t. As a nine year old, he was already well-acquainted with the families that held a considerable amount of power in their kingdom. He was not a stranger to their ways. They mourned the loss of Kuroko Megumi as someone to be used at their convenience - it was the sad thing about Tailors, to meet all sorts of people and be remembered only for their value as a Tailor.  
Kuroko Megumi would soon be replaced by another Tailor, but it would be hard to find a suitable replacement. That was the shared topic behind the whisperings, and Seijuro noticed that they all hinted at the blue haired boy that no one noticed was listening.

_“... did not share the same blood...”_

_“I heard she took him in...”_

_“... you take him!”_

_“I have my own family to care about...”_

He was a little, plain thing around Seijuro’s age. People walked past without ever really noticing. Seijuro, however, always had a keen eye for things around him. He knew the building sadness in that boy, knew what it meant when the tears started streaming down the boy’s face as he hoped no one would notice or look his way. Shiori watched the sight silently, her grip on the umbrella tightening. Satsuki, clinging closely to her mother’s skirts, followed her mother’s gaze, seeing nothing at first until she squinted and saw.

Seijuro was already moving. The person holding the umbrella for him yelled, “Seijuro-sama, please wait!” Shiori shook her head, a sad smile gracing her lips.

Seijuro ran in the direction the blue haired boy was headed. It led him to a small grove just near the cemetery where lilacs grew. The chatter earlier was drowned out, and only the soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the foliage and Seijuro’s footsteps could be heard. Once he drew closer, he could hear the boy’s sniffles too.

Seijuro stopped when the boy’s head shot up, doe-like eyes looking straight at him. It was the brutal honesty they held that captured Seijuro there and then, because he had never been faced with loss mirrored in another’s eyes as much as this. He did not come to offer comforting words. No force in the world could bring Kuroko Megumi back.

What could he do for him? The blue eyes looked at him - expectant and afraid.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Seijuro did not move a step from where he stood, only looking to his side and conveying to the servant with him to hand over the spare umbrella he carried with him. The servant quickly handed it over, his aged features strangely relaxed and almost fond as he watched the exchange between the two young boys.

“You can’t stay out here alone.” He offered his hand. “I’m Seijuro.”

“I know,” The boy said softly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Frantically, he added, “I mean no disrespect. It’s just... I’ve seen you a few times before, Your Highness.”

This surprised Seijuro, to say the least. After all, he rarely forgot people he had a chance to talk to. Slowly, he retreated his hand. ”I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of knowing your name yet.”

“Tetsuya.” was the timid reply. Upon seeing Shiori and Satsuki, Tetsuya stood up to bow. Fear was clear in his eyes. “Your Majesty-“

Shiori cut him off gently. There was no exchange between her and Seijuro, but one look was enough. _I’ll take care of this_. Satsuki skittered over to Seijuro’s side, poking her head shyly behind him. It was a known fact that the queen loved children, but that didn’t seem to be the entire story. Perhaps what spoke to her were the bruises that littered Tetsuya’s chest, visible through the soaked shirt that clung to his skin. They spoke to her in a way they should have to every mother who ever laid eyes on Tetsuya.

Then again, they probably never looked hard enough to know what they meant, to know that they were even there.

“Hello, Tetsuya-kun.” She said, her voice like the promise of spring and summer, of motherly affection and of things every child would yearn for, “Would you like to come home with us?”

* * *

  
“The queen’s so nice.” Ayumi sighed, “She’s like my mother.”

He nodded, a knowing smile on his face. “You are lucky to have a mother like her.”

“I recall you saying your mother was very nice too, grandfather!”

“Yes, well, children need to listen when their weary grandfathers tell them bedtime stories. What do you think?” He said, not unkind.

“I’m so sorry, grandfather. You do tell it so well.”

“Oh, I wonder about that. Perhaps I do it so well because I used to tell your mother this particular story quite often. Now, would you mind if I continue?”

“Please do.”

“Alright then. _So Tetsuya-kun went to stay with the queen, because he had no other place to return to...”_

* * *

  
No one really questioned the queen’s intentions when she took in Kuroko Tetsuya. After all, as far as the people were concerned, Tetsuya was an orphan, and a well-behaved one at that. Only a select few knew that the little boy’s mother was actually a prisoner, and not quite dead. Seijuro heard from the guards that his mother, the queen, visited Tetsuya’s mother a few times, and when he brought it up one day quite tactfully, Shiori told him to not tell Tetsuya about her visits.

Seijuro knew his mother did things for a reason, so he agreed.

Tetsuya was a child with a keen appreciation for learning. He loved reading and knew his letters well - he learned his numbers with Princess Satsuki, who took quite well to finally having someone to learn with. The prince, princess, and Tetsuya became fast friends. Seijuro was often kept busy by the numerous lessons he had to partake in, but when he had time to himself, he would play hide and seek with his younger sister and Tetsuya. As children, Seijuro and Satsuki never had toys - reading was a common pastime they shared that the king found agreeable for his children. Rarely could they be seen running around like the merry children in the street. They did not entirely mind though, and neither did Tetsuya.

Tetsuya never talked about his life before he was taken in. He apologized when Princess Satsuki asked, not sure how to answer, and the fact that Tetsuya’s eyes were always tinged with sadness whenever it was brought up did not escape Seijuro, not ever.

The thought to ask again crossed the minds of both young Akashis, but did it really matter? They found a friend in Tetsuya in such a short time, and perhaps, it mattered not what secrets he had.

Life continued on, and the weeks turned into months. When Princess Satsuki’s seventh birthday came, Tetsuya asked for something for the very first time.

When Queen Shiori heard what Tetsuya asked for, she showed a crinkle of a smile.

“I’m sure she’ll like it very much, Tetsuya-kun.”

Princess Satsuki’s seventh birthday was a day in May. Seijuro would forever remember Tetsuya’s slight hesitance as his hand hovered over pieces of fabric and cloth that, as his delicate fingers stroked them and made them take a new form. He would forever remember the way his breath caught in his throat as he watched the spectacle in front of him. Satsuki squealed in delight, tears forming in the corner of her eyes, “Tetsu-kun!”

Tetsuya smiled shyly, his cheeks flushed.

“You’re a Tailor!”

* * *

Tailors did not undergo any training. Young Tailors were taken under the wings of older Tailors, but they only sought to observe. This was a measure of security for the young Tailors, who may have yet to encounter shady figures later in their life, who would take advantage of their generosity.

Their creations and alterations would always rely solely in their perception of beauty, and in their capacity to observe whatever was around them.

Tetsuya learned within the castle, for the castle was a place visited by all: kings and queens, nobility and gentry, servants and townsfolk. In the time he was trying to grasp his own take on being a Tailor, Aida Kagetora, another one of Teikou’s skilled Tailors, was kept extremely busy. The ones who could afford to travel sought other Tailors situated in the farther kingdoms, so the workload wasn’t that worrisome, but Kagetora did admit he could use some help.

Tetsuya was skilful, and the servants warmed up to him quickly during his stay in the palace. Sometimes, Seijuro would see some servants having some strands of their hair coloured, only for the colour to have vanished the next day. It was mostly that and the eyes, but a Tailor’s magic had never been permanent when it came to the body. It was only lasting for things inanimate, things that were not crafted from the mould of creation used by the Higher Being to shape man and woman.

It was a strange thing, one day, when they were both eleven years old. Seijuro caught Tetsuya looking at himself in the mirror. Tetsuya stayed still for a long while, and when Seijuro called his attention, hand grazing his shoulder, the blue haired boy stiffened.

“Sei-kun,” Tetsuya breathed out sharply, “... You surprised me.”

Seijuro retreated his hand. “You seemed to be thinking about something.”

“Yes,” Tetsuya licked his lips. He seemed to be searching for the words again, seemed to be seeing something that Seijuro did not. Instead, he ended up shaking his head, voice reduced to a whisper. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Your well-being will always matter, Tetsuya.” Seijuro said, the look on his face concerned. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tetsuya was tempted to tell Seijuro the whole story, because if there was anyone around who would try to understand, it was Seijuro. Brilliant Seijuro, who was destined for greatness, prince of the kingdom, friend and confidante.

\- But the part of him that abhorred himself could not tell Seijuro. Fear overtook him, because such was the way with children who have had to live in fear for as long as they could remember. It should’ve been simple - he was safe now, but he never did quite recover from the hurtful words that came back every time he Tailored, the whispers of a nightmare larger than life.

He believed, firmly and stubbornly, that he could keep this to himself. Only this - because Seijuro did not need to know about his past. He could not name this fear, irrational as it was.

“No,” he answered honestly there and then, because he could not lie to Seijuro, “But I will be.”

* * *

There were nights when Seijuro woke up to sobs that Tetsuya tried to stifle as much as he could. In the first place, Seijuro was never a heavy sleeper, so since they shared a room, he would often walk over to Tetsuya’s bed and join him, stroking his head and telling him it would be alright - like an older brother, like a watchful guardian, like a protector who would ward off those evil dreams that haunted him if he could.

“You’re safe, Tetsuya.” He said as Tetsuya buried his head in his chest, “Whatever’s scaring you can’t reach you here.” His eyes glinted in the darkness, eyes of red and gold. “I won’t let them.” And Tetsuya believed him, because Seijuro always kept his promises.

It was always to Seijuro’s great relief when Tetsuya curled up and slept soundly by his side, breathing coming in steady rhythms. He decided that he wanted to protect this person beside him for as long as he lived. It was a protective instinct that he could understand. There was nothing complicated about it.

After all, they loved each other like family.

Seijuro soon found out that the one that came to haunt Tetsuya was actually his very own mother. The admission came very suddenly, almost incoherent. It was not the mother they shared now, but the mother Tetsuya had before, the mother who would beat him into submission until she was satisfied, for reasons Seijuro did not know. Tetsuya would simply not tell him, and he knew better than to force it out.

Seijuro knew that there was no higher power that could make Tetsuya forget. Things of the past - _pain_ \- demanded to be felt from time to time.

“I would never dream of hurting you, Tetsuya.”

“I know, Sei-kun.” Tetsuya whispered back, “Thank you.”

It meant a lot, to hear those words from anyone at all. It gave meaning to Seijuro’s existence, to know that he could care for someone, could be someone’s light as much as anyone else could.

So Tetsuya found home in the Akashi family, and this would remain true for a very long while.

* * *

_“Unfortunately, not all things could last forever.”_

Ayumi didn’t comment. She seemed to be sucked into the world of the story, so her grandfather took it as a sign to continue. This was a story he knew by heart, and he suspected his granddaughter would tell this to her children and grandchildren when he was gone. It was almost like a familiar song when it came out of his lips.

“ _When the prince was thirteen,_ _the queen’s body became weak, because her illness was left unattended.”_

* * *

“I’m afraid it is too late. She is into the last stages of the illness and... I can do nothing to help her. Her body is rejecting the medicine.”

The royal doctor’s expression was grave. He seemed truly solemn when he passed on this news to Masaomi, who seemed to be trying his best not to bury his face in his hands.

“Thank you,” Masaomi said stiffly, “I would like a moment alone with my family.”

“Of course.” The royal doctor took his leave. Shiori watched his retreating figure with half-lidded eyes. Her lips were blue and her skin had a deathly pallor to it. Her breaths came unsteady, haphazardly as he croaked out her husband’s name. “Masaomi...”

“Shiori,” The king’s voice was soft, more human than Seijuro ever heard it. Masaomi kissed her hand. “I’m here, my queen.” There was a lifetime of memories in the exchange between them, the quiet gaze and the shared history in their entwined fingers. Shiori gasped, taking in a large breath.

“I am sorry for... for letting it go on so long.” Masaomi stayed silent as Shiori looked at him fondly. “I am sorry for leaving such a big burden on your shoulders... you know I’d stay if I could.”

“You should have been more careful, Shiori.” Masaomi said, voice thick with longing and regret. Tetsuya felt uncomfortable, because while they did make him feel like a part of the family, he still wasn’t an Akashi, in the end. Standing there, waiting with Seijuro and Satsuki and Masaomi, he felt out of place.

“We could do more things together.” There was a hidden plea in Masaomi’s words, but they all caught it. “Your children need you.” _I need you._

“Our children,” Shiori corrected gently. Her body shivered under the sheets.  “I want to see them.”

Masaomi looked to the corner of the room where Seijuro, Satsuki, and Tetsuya stayed. He nodded, beckoning them to come over. Tetsuya looked unsurely at Seijuro, but Masaomi told him to come over as well. There was something about that which brought tears to Tetsuya’s eyes.

Satsuki whimpered, wide-eyed and worried. “I love you, mother.”

 Shiori brushed her fingers down the princess’s hair. “I love you too, dear. All of you.” She coughed. “Mama will always be watching from afar.”

Satsuki shook her head vigorously. “I’ve been praying every night, mother. Don’t give up just yet!”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, dear, but...” She trailed off. How did a mother talk of death? Shiori had never been all too close with her parents. She had always been told by servants, or other relatives, about how all of a sudden, they were gone without a moment’s notice. It could not end like this. It simply could not.

“I got a glimpse of heaven, Satsuki-chan.” She said, the faithful, gifted storyteller she was. “It was more than I ever imagined. There were angels, much like the paintings - but they played merry tunes in halls gilded with gold, and the clouds, yes, there were castles on clouds.” She held Satsuki’s hand firmly, “You can visit me there someday, but you must be patient.”

“Mother...” Seijuro murmured. Shiori caught it, and looked tenderly at her son. She was the living proof that queens did not have to wear crowns, that the ability to light up the dark and be set ablaze while tempestuous gusts threatened to extinguish the flame was what determined the qualities of a venerable monarch. Seijuro had always looked up to that, because he saw it in the weary countenance of his father, on the skin and bones of his mother. They were what the kingdom needed - they had become what the people around them needed.

Shiori reached out to caress Seijuro’s cheek. Seijuro leaned into his mother’s touch. Her hands were cold, kissed by death. “Take care of Satsuki-chan and Tetsuya-kun for me.” They shared a look of understanding, and Seijuro nodded.

“I will always love you, dear.”

Then she called for Tetsuya.

“I always knew, deep down, that you were meant to be a part of this family.” She told him. Even speaking seemed hard for her.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do much for you.”

“Please don’t say that, Your Majesty.”

“I have a favour to ask of you. I want... I want,” She took a long, sharp, breath, “-to look like myself again, just this once. Healthy, and... young. I want you to remember me as what I was before sickness fell upon me. Can you do that for me, Tetsuya-kun?”

“Yes.”

So Tetsuya got to work. It didn’t take minutes for the colour to return to Shiori’s face. It almost seemed as if her beauty - the red of her lips and the fire in her eyes - would endure, but was she not beautiful even when withered, every semblance of a great woman, a great mother, a queen?

She was, and in her last moments, she seemed the most alive she ever was to all of them - and when she departed from the world, she did so with a smile on her face.

* * *

 

The death of a queen is always a defining moment in every kingdom’s history, because a king without a queen is a knight without his sword, and a scribe without his pen.

It was a gap that could not be filled. One could put another woman on the throne and it would simply not be the same. The masses grieved, smiled sadly at the memory of their queen who fell ill, their queen who had never been physically strong, but would be remembered for her good deeds and her worldly compassion. Akashi Shiori had been loved and envied - to know that she was gone was hard on everyone.

The scent of the air was thick with incense and flowers - carnations and lilies, always his mother’s favourite. He remembered, remembered, remembered - wanted so much to touch his mother’s hand again, wanted so much to listen to her voice and bury everything in its wake. It only seemed like yesterday when his mother hummed lullabies for him, lullabies that stopped when Seijuro reached a certain age because he was ‘old enough for it to stop’. 

How he wished he were a child again. It would sound like a complaint, a complaint unheard of in the halls in which rulers and conquerors breathed, but it was the truth. Seijuro could foresee the path that lay ahead - dozens of private tutors and strangers to shake hands with.

_“All hail the queen.”_

His mother had been one of the few people he let into his walls. In a sense, the death of his mother would later on mark the death of his boyhood.

He did not expect his father to hold his hand. He seemed invisible to his father, whose grey eyes were now fixed on his dead wife’s body, fingers on the glass lid, expression stone cold as people approached him to say their condolences. Seijuro did not know what to say to his father. He was not one to be comforted - males of the Akashi line generally weren’t.

Satsuki was crying, and Tetsuya was consoling her.

That was Tetsuya’s way of occupying himself, perhaps, being among people who were not quite strangers. People who turned the other cheek when Megumi died. He was unwanted - _had been_ unwanted - and now the person who gave him a home was gone. The queen had been more of a mother to him than his mother was.

For the first time in his life, Seijuro wavered, his world splitting apart at the seams.

Tetsuya was the one who was there to hold his hand - so he took it. There were no words exchanged as the mother they shared burned and became nothing but ash. There were no tears either, but Tetsuya was there when they left the princess’s room after she was sound asleep. Seijuro had locked the door to the room they shared, had felt every part of him scream into the silence for something that was lost forever.

“Tetsuya,” His own voice broke the silence like a blade. It was the only thing he could hear above the noise. It caught Tetsuya by surprise.

“Thank you for granting my mother’s last wish. It meant a lot to her.” His throat was dry, and he felt tired, like his eyes would close at any moment and he would drift and succumb to the temptation of dreams. Anything was preferable to the hopelessness he felt.

Tetsuya shook his head. “I was glad to be of service to Her Majesty. It was the only thing I could do to thank her.” He held his gaze, “Can I...?”

Seijuro did not mind being embraced by Tetsuya. It was hard to regain his footing, to put on a mask and be convinced that nothing was wrong. Tetsuya had told Seijuro that he didn’t need to put on a mask when he was in front of him. Tetsuya smelled like lilacs and summer drizzles and tomes, like how Seijuro always wanted home to be.

(Home would not be the same without Kuroko Tetsuya.)

* * *

Tetsuya should have listened when the king told him nothing good would come out of visiting his mother, but there was no turning back.

Standing in front of the entrance to one of Teikou’s biggest prison networks, he stood close to the escort that was assigned to him. Tetsuya was anxious, now that the moment drew closer, but he would very much like to attain closure, to seal the loose ends.

When the warden took a look at Tetsuya, he scoffed, addressing the knight escort. “You brought a minor with you? Why?”

“That’s it for you and your questions, sir,” the escort said, handing out the letter with the king’s seal, “We have the permission of His Royal Majesty.”

When the letter was authenticated and read thoroughly, the warden shrugged. He hollered for one of the guards to take them to the person Tetsuya came to see. Tetsuya was careful to betray no emotion as he walked by, feeling the stares from behind the cells, eyeing him and the escort like fresh meat. They wore tattered rags caked in dirt and grime, some clawing on the walls of stone and some clinging to the bars to get a better look.

“We’re here.”

At the sound of voices, Tsukiko’s head shot up, grinning from ear to ear.

“I was wondering when you’d come along.” Her voice was taunting, and she gathered her bearings, standing up to meet with Tetsuya. The guard kept his hands ready on the bump of his rifle.

She inched closer, her hands grabbing past the bars. The guard stepped between mother and son, a warning in his eyes. Tsukiko wiped the grin off her face. “Have you come to mock me, Tetsuya? Do you want mama to teach you a lesson again?”

“I didn’t come here for that.” Tetsuya said, struggling to hide his discomfort. He bristled when his mother called him ‘Tetsuya’, so different from the way Queen Shiori and Seijuro said it. “I felt like I owed you a visit.”

“Oh, you don’t _owe_ me anything, Tetsuya. I mean,” She snarled, “We all know you left me for that hag who came. Oh, but she left you too, didn’t she?”

“It was different.” Tetsuya protested weakly. Tsukiko put a finger to her lips.

“Shh...” Her hair was in tangles, but it was still the same shade as Tetsuya’s. They fell over her face in strands as she spoke. “And then Shiori too... “ The mere mention of the name seemed to embitter her. “She always had it all. Had to win over my child’s heart too. You have the royal family all over you.” She spat.

“You had your chance too, mother.” He didn’t need to ask why she hated him so much. It was clear as day that she still did. _Did he haunt her dreams too?_ It certainly seemed so, with the bags under his mother’s eyes.

Or had they been about things his mother never had and could not have? He still remembered curling up in a corner, seeing his mother’s shadow loom over him. She had never been ugly, but her heart harboured hatred, and she had always worn it well. She would go on about the man she loved - a man who was not Kuroko’s father. The man was someone else’s father, someone who did not love Tsukiko back.

Maybe that was why he came to visit. His mother hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when she’d been in love, when she’d been one of the many hopeful girls who dreamed of finding happiness and dreamed of marrying for love.

“I tried, mother. I really did.” It stung, Tetsuya had to admit. He wanted to ask her if she ever saw that, if she ever noticed.

“I’m sorry.”

Tsukiko clicked her tongue. “You act so _saintly_ like your father, but let me tell you something, Tetsuya. I never once asked for love that held no meaning - all I asked from you was to make me _beautiful,_ to make me feel like I was enough.” Her eyes narrowed, “But you failed, every single time. [1] You were useless to me after that. Did you come here to hear me say sorry? Well,” She sneered, “Then you’re even more stupid than I thought.”

She shook the bars, making them rattle loudly. It was the only thing that was keeping them apart, keeping his mother from strangling him to death. Tetsuya could almost feel ghost fingers trailing down his cheek, his neck, sucking the air out of him. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He shouldn’t have been surprised.

He was wrong to hope.

“You don’t have to see me again.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

She screamed at the top of her lungs, but Tetsuya already had his back turned to her. The knight’s hand settled on his midback, urging him away.

“Come back here! I’m not done with you yet.”

“Goodbye, mother.”

* * *

 

When he came back to the palace, Seijuro happened to be done with his violin lessons. “Tetsuya,” the prince called, his cape sweeping behind him, “Do you have time?”

“For you I always do, my prince.” Tetsuya smiled, “You know that.”

“You look like you could use the company of a friend.” Seijuro held his hand to Tetsuya’s forehead. Tetsuya did not shy away from the contact. His face was so close to the prince’s, however. Their noses almost touched.

“Sei, what-“

“You don’t seem to have a fever. What seems to be troubling you, then?”

“I went to visit my mother in prison.” Hearing this, understanding lit up in Seijuro’s eyes. He instinctively asked the question that first came to mind.

“Did she do anything to you?”

“She couldn’t have anyway,” Tetsuya replied, feeling his fingers tremble at last. He couldn’t steady them, and he found himself flooding with something akin to relief. “It’s over now.”

After a moment, Seijuro spoke. “...We should go somewhere private.” Tetsuya agreed. He let Seijuro lead him to the palace gardens. It was full of memories of Queen Shiori, and something about the blossoms stood out from the rest of the landscape, oozing with life and vivacity. They were loved, so very loved, clearly shown tenderness and care despite the absence of the person that first cared for them and nurtured them.

They sat between two tall columns, shielding themselves from the sun. Seijuro put his violin and bow aside. The pavement beneath them was cooler. It would be autumn soon. Tetsuya recognized the clothes Seijuro wore, as those he gave him on his most recent birthday. They suited him, he thought.

 Seijuro’s gaze followed a blue-winged butterfly that flitted about. Tetsuya followed his example, watching the butterfly land on one of the red roses that bloomed in the rosebush closest to them. A light breeze passed by, making the leaves of the trees rustle.

Tetsuya folded his hands on his lap, sighing. “I will be leaving the palace soon.”

The butterfly flew away.

“I am aware of that,” Seijuro said, his expression unreadable. Tetsuya hummed.

“I will visit when I’m able, of course,” Tetsuya added, “If it’s alright.”

 “Are you sure about your decision to leave?”

Tetsuya nodded. Seijuro stayed silent, propping the violin on his lap. It was made of wood of the finest quality, and looked like it would sell for a very high price. Tetsuya recalled that the late queen played the violin well too. Looking at Seijuro holding the instrument, the resemblance was striking.

“I will miss hearing you play, Sei.  And hearing Satsuki-chan sing too.” Tetsuya’s eyes slid shut. “For some reason, I feel.... tired all of a sudden.”

“Lean back, Tetsuya.” Seijuro told him, a request; a command. “I’ll play something for you.” [2]

So Tetsuya did as he was told, comfortable with the proximity between them. The world went still when Seijuro started to play a song that felt nostalgic, that was preserved at the edges of memory.

This was something beautiful - watching Seijuro focusing only on the music, swinging his bow skilfully across the strings. Tetsuya always found himself looking at Seijuro, admiring Seijuro for what he already was. It was that feeling he locked away inside that could not make itself known, because things were about to change.

Seijuro made him feel like he belonged, and perhaps this was where he needed to be, but he didn’t have much place in Seijuro’s future. That didn’t mean anything had to change, and at the same time, it did.

Fantasies would have to remain fantasies. They had always known that.

Tetsuya continued to listen, but suddenly, the melody meant something else for him. It tugged at his heartstrings, at just the right places, resonating with him but at the same time foreign, distant.

Seijuro probably didn’t think about him that way. He shoved his feelings down, and put on a smile, because this was okay.

This was okay.

This was how things should be.

* * *

 

_-In the near future-_

After two years of having left the palace and apprenticeship under Kagetora, Tetsuya started making a name for himself.

He visited the palace occasionally but he rarely got to talk to Seijuro face to face. They both understood, and decided to settle with other forms of communication. Tetsuya’s shop was settled in the middle of the bustling town square, just near the palace, thus making it convenient to send handwritten letters to each other. This form of correspondence still worked through the passage of time, and it was the princess who served as their middleman.

Tetsuya was very much indebted to the crown princess. It had been with the princess’s help that Tetsuya was able to set up shop. She had a knack for decoration, and often came by to see her beloved friend and ask how he was doing, in both business and life.

Satsuki always had stories at her disposal, about the palace staff and about her family - sometimes, even news of other people from other kingdoms. It was no secret that while many vied for the attention of sixteen year old Satsuki, she held secret admiration for a certain tall, dark, blue-haired prince from the neighbouring kingdom of Touou.

When the chimes that hung at the top of the door rang, Tetsuya looked up, not really all that surprised because now happened to be the season when Tailors were in demand more than ever. He was mostly surprised because it was Princess Satsuki who entered, an envelope in her hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. She seemed to have ran on the way to the shop, because she was heaving heavy breaths.

“Big news, Tetsu-kun! Here, have this first,” She pushed the flowers, an assortment of irises and dandelions, into his hands, patting them gently. Tetsuya took them with a smile on his face. Satsuki winked. “From Sei-chan.”

She looked around the shop, “Are you busy right now, Tetsu-kun?”

As if on cue, a few customers entered the shop, looking at Satsuki from head to toe, both shock and disapproval registering in their features. Satsuki was used to getting such looks - she gave Tetsuya a sympathetic smile.

“I’ll come again some other time, then.” This time, she spoke more softly. “I hope to see you at the ball.”

He bowed. “Thank you for coming, Your Highness.”

“Yes, of course!” Satsuki said, not looking the least bit fazed. She bumped into the shoulder of the man who seemed to be sizing up on her inappropriately. It seemed to break him out of trance. Noticing this, his wife slapped him on the arm with a wooden fan, glaring disapprovingly.

Tetsuya discreetly tucked the envelope inside a drawer, and, placing the flowers in the vase he had, he greeted the people who came in.

He had his work cut out for him for the next few weeks. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the reason why Tailors were so in demand - after all, he could not possibly forget about the crown prince’s eighteenth birthday.

This was the year Seijuro would be forced to choose a bride.

Tetsuya tried his best not to show it, but while he Tailored for the customers who came, he felt his heart clench. He felt pain that ran as deep as fear, pain that stemmed from something that had already been going on for a few years. After all, he bore the knowledge that one of the women who came into his shop might, in a few weeks, become Seijuro’s bride. His hands did not waver as he focused on his job. He willed his heart not to either.

He saw all these hopeful faces who wanted a chance, youthful and starry-eyed. They laughed and laughed, faces plastered with pretty smiles, observing the other girls in their midst: possible competition. They stowed away all thoughts that their hopes might be let down. They all wanted to shine, wanted to look their best to leave a good impression. Tetsuya never missed the streak of ambition that blazed in their eyes, didn’t miss how they were all expectant after seeing a girl as young as them coming out with a pretty dress of Tetsuya’s making. If there was anything they had in common, it was that.

It all seemed like a game to them, and Seijuro was the prize.

They were wont to know Seijuro as a person, saw not the need to know Seijuro the way Tetsuya did- what they did know was that Seijuro was every semblance of a perfect gentleman, the prince of one’s dreams. Rich, intelligent, brilliant, tantalizing, well-mannered. He would be so described, and who could blame them? Seijuro was the epitome of what every family wanted for their daughters. After all, many girls dreamed of becoming someone’s queen. Tetsuya knew what it was like, to want to mean that much to someone.

They didn’t know that Seijuro wrinkled his nose at the presence of seaweed. They didn’t know that Seijuro knew so much about the stars in the night sky not because he was obligated to learn them, but because he did so of his own free will. They didn’t know that Seijuro’s friend, first and foremost, was Yukimaru, the stallion he owned since he’d been a child. They didn’t know Seijuro behind his cordial mask, couldn’t look past it.

Someday, they would know these things, and the fact that Tetsuya knew would mean nothing.

Nothing.

~~(They didn’t love Seijuro the way Tetsuya did.)~~

The whole thing felt like a slap to the face.

Tetsuya never wrote about such things in his letters to Seijuro.

It was night when he finally had the chance to open the envelope, when he felt all the life sucked out of him as the world spun and he’d already gone through Tailoring tens and hundreds of suits and dresses and necklaces and brooches. It contained both a personal letter from Seijuro and a formal invitation to the royal ball commemorating the crown prince’s eighteenth birthday.

  _To my dearest Tetsuya,_

_I just returned from Rakuzan days ago, though you probably already knew this from the fanfare occurring in the streets. Truly, I have wanted to visit you for a long time. Forgive me if we have had to resort to this form of communication for so many times now. I will keep my apology short, because I know you don’t really read these letters to see me apologize over what... cannot be helped. Do know that when I am in other kingdoms, I constantly think of you. Over the years, coming home has always somehow been linked to you. Is that strange?_

_By the time you receive this letter, you will have already received the invitation too. I already know that you have no intention of going, and it’s perfectly fine. It is mostly frivolity, and only ever involves cajoling. I’d rather not put you through such a thing, but if it pleases you to go or come with someone, don’t let anyone stop you. I, of all people, shouldn’t be stopping you._

_The people want a king and queen. My father has grown old, and his intentions are understandable. I worry for him. Things happen for a reason, they say. I wonder if I will ever be ready to take up such heavy responsibilities. It is ridiculous to doubt. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t have the time for that either._

_I know the coming weeks will be busy for you. I wish you the best of luck._

_P.S. Do remember to eat, Tetsuya. You need to take care of yourself more._

_Sincerely,_

_Seijuro_

He traced his fingers over the place where Seijuro’s signature was located, finding comfort in the texture of paper and ink. Grabbing a stool and pen and paper, he started to write down a reply. He cast a side glance at the irises and dandelions, trying to remember from memory what they meant.

_Dandelions for happiness. Irises for friendship._

Somehow, none of the words felt right when he wrote them down.

~~(What to give to feel right again?)~~

* * *

 

“The prince loved him though!” Ayumi said in protest. Her grandfather laughed.

 “Yes, but circumstances prevented them from being together.”

“Why can’t they be together? If the tailor just told the prince, I’m sure-!”

“Well, for starters, back then, men couldn’t be together with other men, and women couldn’t be together with other women, and by our time, it’s no odd thing. Although,” He grimaced, “Some still agree with the old ways.”

Ayumi pouted, folding her arms above her chest. “It’s not fair.”

“You’re right,” He said, stroking her hair comfortingly, “It isn’t. Now, _the weeks were quick to pass and the day of the ball came. The prince stood on his balcony, watching the carriages of esteemed guests enter the palace...”_

* * *

“Is this really alright, brother?”

Seijuro nodded curtly, but all he could think of was putting flowers in a certain blue-haired boy’s hair, showering him with red roses and love. Tetsuya deserved happiness, all the happiness in the world, and Seijuro would give him that if he could, and supposedly, there was nothing he couldn’t do. He _was_ Akashi Seijuro, after all - but Akashi Seijuro was a prince, a prince who had to do what was best for the kingdom. Akashi Seijuro was faithful son, a son who had to abide by his father’s wishes.

Around Kuroko Tetsuya, he was just Seijuro, and that meant a lot to him. It meant the world.

“You are worried.” He said matter-of-factly, observing his sister. Princess Satsuki knew who her brother really loved, had seen it with her very own eyes blossom from the seeds of childhood.

“For you and for Tetsu-kun.” She nodded. “This _is_ about him, isn’t it?”

He looked away. The kingdom seemed to be thrumming with life more than ever, but Seijuro felt dull. He felt like this a lot these days. 

“There is never a time when it is not.” He said truthfully.

It was that companionship he shared with Tetsuya that made the blue haired boy stand out amongst the colourful selection of eligibles which he could choose from, although that wasn’t to say Tetsuya was a choice for marriage that the kingdom would agree on. What was this irony, to be given everything by the gods only to be denied the one thing he truly wanted most?

Satsuki found the entire situation quite sad. She wanted to help in some way, but knew there was no helping how tradition set motion to such a large portion of their lives.  If things had been different, perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard.

“Don’t do something you’ll come to regret.”

The look in his eyes softened. “I won’t.” It was a promise to himself - that, and the fact that he didn’t want this night to end without letting Tetsuya know how much he loved him.

He would utter the name of his chosen bride, but his true answer was in his heart, in a place no one could touch, a place where everything would stay eternal so long as he willed it. [3]

There was a knock at the door to Seijuro’s room. “Enter,” Seijuro said, and in came the butler who was assigned to take care of the king.

“Is there something I should know, Fujioka-san?” Seijuro asked. Fujioka shook his head.

“Not at all, Your Highness. The ball will be starting in a few minutes. It is only that... your father, His Majesty, wishes to see you beforehand. He is unwell, and regrets that he cannot attend his son’s eighteenth birthday. He never elaborated as to what he wanted to speak to you about, sir.”

“Very well, then.” Seijuro set the roses he had aside, placing them on his writing desk. “Lead the way.” Satsuki patted him on the back before taking her leave too. Tonight would be a long night for all of them.

* * *

Tetsuya’s nights had always been shrouded in dreams, and this time, it was no different.

He was back at the place of lilacs again, with Seijuro’s hand outstretched to him. He remembered thinking that that had been a dream too, because so many times, he had seen the prince, had looked at him admiringly with a strange fascination, because Seijuro’s beauty was something else, something that could bring out the muse in anyone. It didn’t take a Tailor to know that. One look was enough.

It was when he got to know Seijuro bit by bit, however, that he found himself feeling things that started to become incomprehensible at such a young age. He learned about love, what it meant to receive it from someone else. He learned, then, from reading several books on love and heart and mind, about reciprocation. He read several stories of unrequited love too.

Subconsciously, he craved to be touched gently, to be handled with care, and to be broken all at once. To be broken and to have his pieces put back by someone he could entrust himself to.

He had always been good at keeping his emotions reined in. It was easy to hide at first, but over time, he found himself being suffocated by it. It wasn’t the feelings he felt, which should have felt wrong, that suffocated him... if anything, they were the only parts of himself that felt right till now, because loving Seijuro came as easily as breathing. No, what suffocated him was knowing, _living_ with the fact that to other people, these feelings of his, were _wrong,_ would always be wrong.

The scene shifted. He was face to face with his mother, who would not change form no matter what he did, because this was the mother he so remembered, the mother who wounded her child because she carried wounds of her own, wounded her child because she thought that she could be healed by him, that everything would be fixed and _perfect_ if she just continued doing what she did. Hers was a frightening obsession. She did the things she did out of love and out of the hurt that her unrequited love caused.

Over the years, Tetsuya found that love terrified him, and the constraints society cast upon them terrified him too. Arranged marriages were such a pivotal part of their society, and the union between a man and a woman was considered an ideal match - what did love matter when it could change one’s fortune? Surely, the concept had brought suffering to a lot of people.

Tetsuya knew for a fact that his love for Seijuro was not one of harmful nature. For it to be labelled as wrong, it simply wasn’t right.

“ _You were a mistake, Tetsuya.” Slap_. _“I’d always known. I suppose you did too.”_

**So. much. pain.**

He gasped, regaining his senses.

Slowly, he stood up, opening the window. The wind was cool and moist, the moonscape beautiful - and it seemed like the town was worlds apart from the castle. The streets fell into a hush while trumpets still blared in the palace as the last stroke of midnight approached. It was well past the hour when children were tucked in bed by their mothers and fathers.

It would be well past the fateful minutes when Seijuro announced the name of his chosen bride.

The invitation rested innocently on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, realizing that it must have slipped from his fingers while he was sleeping. His eyes trailed to a dress that hung innocently on a cabinet handle, one of the few personal belongings that Tetsuya had. It was something he made for himself a while back, though he never got around to wearing it.

He held it up gingerly in front of the mirror, feeling a large part of him threaten to burst forth. It consumed him slowly, and the seconds ticked by as he hesitated. It was much easier when he welcomed it, let the feeling wash over him -  partly to pretend, partly to forget.

He indulged himself in this fantasy, and this time, he didn’t want to wake up.  [4]

When dawn broke, this would have to end too, just like how all good things did.

* * *

 

When all the carriages left and the palace was silent once more, Seijuro’s mind was clearer.

He knew what he had to do.

Three red roses.

His visit would not be meaningless.

“At this time of night, Your Highness?”

Seijuro looked at the guards he faced unflinchingly. “It is only for a short walk. You perfectly know how I am capable of defending myself, so there really is no reason to worry.” He said without so much as inflection in his voice.

The guards exchanged a look before nodding. There seemed to be no harm done by letting the prince go, so they did.

Seijuro was right in deciding not to use a carriage. It would have attracted too much attention. He wanted tonight to be a quiet affair, something shared only between him and Tetsuya. Soon enough, he found himself standing in front of the shop, slightly worried that Tetsuya was already asleep at this time.

Instead of knocking, he decided to enter as quietly as possible. He knew about the chimes, and they made a small tinkering sound when he pried the door open.

“Tetsuya?”

* * *

 

_“Tetsuya?”_

Tetsuya froze. It was uttered quietly, but could be heard like the drop of a needle with the silence that was prevalent around them. It had the lasting effect of a gust of wind that threw Tetsuya off his feet. He couldn’t be wrong about whom that voice belonged to. His breath hitched. He didn’t think that Seijuro would actually come.

There was nowhere to hide.

* * *

 

Seijuro’s feet were trained on the ground, on the spot where he stood. In that moment, he forgot to breathe.

Tetsuya walked down the stairs and reluctantly met Seijuro’s eyes. “I didn’t think you’d come, Sei. I had no time to, well, change.” He was referring to the dress, Seijuro realized. There was a hidden story there. He sensed Tetsuya’s discomfort, and wanted to ease that.

He bowed, taking off his gloves and offering the three roses. It was reaching out, a simple request that made everything click and fall into place.

“May I have this dance, Tetsuya?”

Tetsuya laughed. It sounded nervous, almost, as he accepted the roses. He smiled sweetly, grateful for this chance.  “I would be honoured, Your Highness.”

“I’d wager I’m good at waltz,” Seijuro whispered in his ear as his hand circled Tetsuya’s waist. “No more secrets.” It was a promise.

Tetsuya nodded. “No more secrets.” He returned.

It wasn’t anything as grand as a ballroom, but it was space they could be comfortable with. Seijuro’s vision blurred at the edges - he could still see the merriment that had whirled around him as people danced till their feet ached, donning pretty smiles and wishing him a happy birthday. He remembered his mutual agreement with his bride, but now, looking closer, he only saw - _had only ever seen_ \- Tetsuya. Tetsuya who asked only for Seijuro’s true self, and nothing more.

“I knew you way before we met, Sei.” Tetsuya said. He seemed to be recalling fond memories. “Megumi-san was still alive, and I used to see you a lot when Shiori-san came over. I admired you and Shiori-san as mother and son. To have been taken into that family meant the world to me.”

They went at a slower pace now. Tetsuya didn’t feel vulnerable anymore, not with Seijuro having accepted his truth. Seijuro listened. He had always been a good listener, Tetsuya thought.

“I didn’t want to impose with my feelings, not without me understanding them first. I felt the need to do it right now because there was no better time. So Sei,” Tetsuya looked at him straight in the eye, expectant, wanting. “What did you really come here for?”

Seijuro felt surer about himself. “I came because I feel the same way as you do,” Tetsuya felt Seijuro’s hand on his cheek, “And I could not live with myself, could not bear the thought that this night could go without me telling you just how much you mean to me.”

Seijuro brushed his thumb on Tetsuya’s lower lip. “Do you want this?” He asked.

Tetsuya gently held Seijuro’s wrist, touch as light as a feather, directing it to his back where the zipper of the dress was.

“As much as you do.”

In that moment, they both knew. They always had.

And just like that, they were kissing heatedly like there was no tomorrow - and that wasn’t entirely false. Tomorrow, things would be different. They had to be, but could different be all that bad? Tetsuya could only hear his heartbeat telling him that maybe it wasn’t. That was what he wanted to believe - they couldn’t do this, but there was so much more waiting. It made the moment more treasured, more special.

Tetsuya moaned when Seijuro pulled down the zipper in one swift moment. managing to utter two words. “The bedroom.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Seijuro swooped him up effortlessly, carrying him bridal style. “You really are very light, Tetsuya. Even lighter than I imagined.”

Tetsuya fought to keep the blush from creeping into his cheeks. Did that imply what he thought it did?

When they went up the stairs and entered the room, Tetsuya made sure to close the window first. He didn’t want to envision a prince get sick directly after his eighteenth birthday. The weather was chilly too. Tetsuya shivered, but he knew with certainty that it was from Seijuro’s touch.

Seijuro locked the door, a ghost of a smile on his face. He raked his fingers through his hair. Tetsuya knew he did that when he was in a bit of a loss.

“It might hurt, Tetsuya.” He said, hand pinning both Tetsuya’s wrists to the mattress of the bed. “I’m not exactly very experienced myself.”

“The prince of Teikou is worried about his sexual prowess.” The thought of it was amusing. “I can take a little pain.” Tetsuya assured him.

Seijuro didn’t need to hear any more than that. Tetsuya felt the rise and fall of his body when Seijuro pulled the dress down and grazed his chest with soft lips, littering butterfly kisses here and there. “You are beautiful, Tetsuya,” He murmured, cool breath sending shivers down Tetsuya’s spine. He let go of Tetsuya’s two hands, his stray hand trailing down to Tetsuya’s waist, pushing him down with considerable force. Tetsuya nestled his hand at the back of Seijuro’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss while unbuttoning his top.

“On fours, Tetsuya, if you please.”

Seijuro playfully nibbled on his ear. “I love you.” The words were so heartfelt and sincere, that Tetsuya felt like he was losing himself, like it made it more apparent what exactly he could have but in secret, only ever in secret.

After a round of baring themselves to each other, they lay there, panting. The world was silent, and they could only hear each other's breathing.

“I want to build a world where this is okay.” Tetsuya said, clenching Seijuro’s hand. He’d always felt so small, but a fire burned within him now as he held Seijuro's hand- it didn't take a while to name this feeling: bright, burning hope.

Seijuro seemed to know what he meant. “My queen-to-be...” He started. Tetsuya jolted up at the mention of her. Seijuro smiled, sitting up too.

“I told her that our union would not be for love, and I suppose I chose well, because she was exceedingly understanding about it. She is what people would call aromantic. She entered the palace knowing full well that she would not marry for love.”

It took time to realize why Seijuro was telling him this.

“So you mean to say...”

“She knows that I love another, yes. She was rather supportive when I told her as much.” His lips curled into a grimace, “She is the type of queen who would do what’s best for the kingdom. With the way things are, I think that’s for the best.”

“You didn’t come to say goodbye then?”

“No,” answered Seijuro, kissing his forehead. “It is too soon for that.”

* * *

 

_"And so for as long as they lived, the Prince and the Tailor, with the help of a princess of another kingdom, worked to build a kingdom where no one needed to hide - and now, the Prince had become a King who was well-loved by his people. His story would live on for generations to come, just like his love.”_

“So you went ahead and told her.” Ayumi’s grandmother leaned on the doorframe, feigning displeasure with hands folded above her chest. It didn’t stay for long, because soon, a smile graced her lips. Her husband smiled back. Ayumi looked at her grandmother curiously, then back at her grandfather.

“Thank you for telling me a story again, grandfather.” She told him. He ruffled her hair in response.

 “You’re very welcome. I must be going now, though.” His attention switched to his wife, “Would you mind keeping Ayumi company?"

When she saw the red roses, she understood immediately, no questions asked. “I’ll take care of it from here.”

When her grandfather left, Ayumi eagerly sat beside her grandmother. “It’s an amazing story, grandmother - The Prince and the Tailor. Very memorable,” Then, she asked with a hushed tone, “Is it a true one, though?”

“I’d say it is, very much so.” She paused, wondering if it was okay to tell her granddaughter the bit of information that she had.

“Have you never wondered what your grandfather’s name is?”

“No...”

The Queen Regent smiled. “He used to go by Seijuro a lot.”

Ayumi was shocked by this, because to her, grandfather was always grandfather, but she was quick to catch on. There was a brief pause before she spoke.

“So the queen of the story is you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Because Seijuro had a queen whom he loved. I am only a queen by name.”

“He was Kuroko Tetsuya, and he truly was beautiful.” She told Ayumi, enveloping her in an embrace. “Still, there is no one in the world who can ever take his place in your grandfather’s heart.”

* * *

 

_"Kuroko Tetsuya is honoured by many as an advocate of change for the rights of the minority. He, alongside Akashi Seijuro who came from a long line of monarchs, established the first stepping stones leading to a more open-minded future for the world, starting with the kingdom in which they resided. It was in King Seijuro’s reign that an edict showing approval of marriages involving those of the same sex was first declared. ‘The Tailor’ will largely be remembered as an inspiration that sparked the beginning efforts to pave a path towards the making of a better world.” - National Landmark of Teikou_

 

* * *

 

 

Seijuro placed the red roses on top of the grave. His fingers did not have the strength they used to have, but always, the name he uttered would make the fondest of memories resurface, would make him feel like he had not aged at all.

He saw him in all things - in the calm of the ocean, in the blue of the sky, in the gentle caress of the wind. There were pieces of his love everywhere. It was timeless and untouched. It was power.

A blue butterfly appeared. Seijuro smiled, like they shared a long-lasting secret.

“We will meet again someday, Tetsuya.” He said, getting up on his feet and turning away, the smile still on his face. There was a poignant quality to it, something that became more prominent as his days were numbered.

 “Until then.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> THAT’S A WRAP!! Can’t write smut for the life of me //laughs nervously. Strange since Day 6 is Temptation||Wayward||Noise OTL  
> [1] - Kuroko had failed all the time because Tailoring relies heavily on imagination. He may imagine his mother as many things far more beautiful, but the person who always haunted him would never change form. No matter how much he willed it, his mother would always stay that way, look that way. It had nothing to do with love or hate or lack of ability to Tailor. There was the fear too. His mother’s image was branded in his mind.  
> [2] The tune Akashi played is Chopin’s Nocturne, but on the violin. It may also be Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major, depending on which you think is the better song for ze moooood.  
> [3]- Inspired by quote from The Story of My Life by Helen Keller. “Things seen are temporal, and things unseen are eternal.”  
> [4]- A DREAAAAAAAAAM IS A WISH YOUR HEART MAAAAAAKES jkjk what a mood ruiner //shot  
> Bonuses/rambling:  
> -Akashi introducing his grandchild to fanfiction i rotfl. TO BE FAIR, his grandchild had the right education so it’s not as if she’s clueless about making out and all that. Sexuality is an important topic in her generation and that is why the “fairytale” isn’t entirely off limits despite it getting a little SPG. It doesn’t sound SPG in the original fairytale. The orig. fairytale just says “the prince and the tailor spent the night together, treasuring what they had and what was shared between them. The following morning...”. That’s not to say she fully understood because she’s at that age we were in when reading fic for the first time but lmao  
> \- It was a happy accident. I imagined the scene of Akashi and Kuroko’s first meeting as a place with lots of lilacs before even knowing what they meant. Turns out lilacs happen to mean “first love” ;)  
> \- First entry for akkr week reached 10k words but got scratched out. It was sad, lol. This idea came when I went to sleep a few days after and was a godsend. Somehow made it!! <3  
> Thank you so much for reading!! I would like very much to know what you thought about it. Once again, happy shipping ^^


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